


Risk

by Bobblychicken



Category: Cars (Movies), Planes (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8348287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bobblychicken/pseuds/Bobblychicken
Summary: One-shot. Dusty and Clarice's bond was solidified the moment that she saved his life from certain torture and death at the hands of the Cutters. It has already been mentioned before that they both have saved each other's lives in some form over the course of their friendship. This is the story of when Dusty returned the favor. Rated PG-13 for Mild Language, Violence.





	

This would be a very special year for the Reno Championship Air Races. Apparently the humans had a nearly identical competition back on their side of the sky, which was just as nearly popular as it was on the Vivens machina's side. And once word had spread, year by year, humans were slowly trickling in and increasing in attendance. This year was to be a record turn-out. Clarice Watson was thrilled.

Humans were everywhere this year. Hundreds of them. All mingling with the aircraft and cars and other vehicles. No fear, no apprehension but a few faux pas in interaction which led to some laughs. They were all just a bunch of air racing enthusiasts. The children were the best. They were all staring around wide-eyed at all these living, breathing machines. This was probably a dream come true for them all, and probably for more than a few adults as well. Clarice witnessed some of the parents even lifting their little ones up to see the planes, and what's more, the planes would lean down and allow the children to touch them. And she could see it in their eyes, that those young children were seeing the aircraft for what they really were. It both melted her heart as much as it saddened her, that the majority of them would grow out of it and forget completely that they ever had such feelings. Dusty had once again taken the gold for the Formula 1 Class that year, and once pictures were taken had promptly disappeared.

"God, is _everybod_ y ditching me today?" Clarice griped.

First Aimee and now Dusty. Aimee was Clarice's childhood friend that she invited to come with her to this year's races. She was tall, quite soft on the eyes, and a real, kind-hearted soul if a bit ditsy at times. Clarice had few friends, being no social butterfly, but Aimee was one that had stuck with her the longest. As much as their personalities didn't mach up and would grate on Clarice sometimes, she greatly appreciated the other girl's candor in never telling her how she should behave, and likewise didn't adjust her own behavior to suit Clarice's more introverted tendencies. Finally she spotted her among the merchant stalls chatting it up with some guys. _Well there's Aimee, where the hell has Dusty gotten off to?_

Later that evening, the girls took a break and went back to their hotel to freshen up for the night before going back out again. Clarice, wrapped in a towel, was just stepping out of the bathroom to give Aimee her turn when the taller girl thrust a package wrapped in butcher paper in her face.

"I have a surprise for you!" she chirped cheerily in that sing-song voice of hers.

Clarice frowned. A surprise? In the past a "surprise" meant anything from a kitten to a terrible hair-bleaching incident in which they had both agreed never to speak of again. As she opened the paper-wrapped parcel and laid the contents out on the bed, her mouth dropped open in horror and then she backed away several paces.

 _No!_ But her protests were in vain, and an hour later, Aimee was practically pushing her into the elevator and out onto the streets toward the open air bars in the back in the pits. Clarice hated dresses. She had always hated them from the time her mother and grandmother were constantly making her wear them from the time she was two, as if that and their refusal to buy her any toys but dolls would cure her of her tomboyish leanings. Not that she didn't have it in her to be girly. Clarice could be girly, but she had just never understood dresses or the reason for dressing so formally at all, especially growing up in the neighborhoods and schools that she had where that was likely to get you jumped. And you couldn't _do_ anything in them. Especially this one, which was cut rather short which took away from her appreciation of how well-fitted it was on top. She felt so unlike herself that she might as well have been wearing a costume; she almost looked like a cocktail waitress at a casino. The blonde looked to her left at Aimee, looking completely comfortable and at ease in the flowing sundress that she had bought for herself, eyeing the extra fabric resentfully, but like hell she was going to say anything. It was a gift after all, and since it was Aimee she would more than likely end up having a good time like so many times before.

"Come on, Clarice," she encouraged, "Just relax! Hey, it's that guy Jim that I met earlier! Let's go say "hi"!"

Clarice turned to look and she recognized the tall man that she had seen Aimee speaking to earlier that day. There was another guy with him that she didn't know, but he was smiling at her amiably enough and she tentatively smiled back. By the time that Aimee had pulled the both of them over to the bar, each man had already had a drink in hand for each of them.

"Ladies," Jim greeted, handing his drink to Aimee, and so Clarice reached for the glass offered to her by the stranger.

"I'm Sean," he said, smiling at her. He didn't relinquish the drink, though, and Clarice looked at him bemusedly before he prompted, "And you are?"

"Clarice," she said, laughing as Sean finally let go of the glass.

"Cheers, Clarice," said Sean, raising the bottle he was holding, Clarice tapping her own glass against it and drinking.

Over the first few drinks, Clarice had learned that Aimee's new friend and Sean had been friends since childhood. Over the next few drinks, Aimee had explained that she and Clarice had also known each other since childhood, and that she herself worked in insurance and that Clarice was a diplomat in Human/Vivens machina relations. As usual, Clarice was glad enough to let Aimee do most of the talking. She just nodded on cue and sipped each Jack n' Coke as it came, only really speaking to answer the specific questions that Sean occasionally posed to her.

Clarice wasn't sure why she'd let Aimee talk her into this now. She just wasn't feeling it this time and wasn't all that engrossed in the group's conversation, or even in the man trying to engage her in a more personal one. Mostly she was just drinking and only half-listening to Sean talk. She was a bit too distracted in the disappearance of a certain racing plane who she hadn't seen paint nor prop of since the Winner's Circle. He was just telling her how he had come to this side of the sky, when, almost as if summoned, a flash of orange caught her eye and she turned quickly to see Dusty making his way through the crowds to the tents. Clarice stood abruptly and went to follow him, leaving poor Sean in the middle of a sentence without a word of explanation. After a few seconds chase, she finally caught the racing plane up by the wing, tugging on it, and he pulled around.

"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded, scowling.

Clarice was starting to feel the real effects of the alcohol; that warmth that kept her comfortable despite wearing such undesirable clothing along with the mellow buzz that kept her from being too furious at Dusty for his unexplained absence and leaving her alone at the mercy of Aimee and her fashion sense. She didn't even have the urge to sock him.

For a moment, the orange and white plane looked down at her in bewilderment, as though he'd never seen her before. Then recognition dawned in his cerulean eyes and his jaw dropped as he openly stared at her. Clarice wasn't expecting that kind of a reaction from him and she stepped back, her confusion turning defensive.

"What?!"

Okay _now_ she wanted to hit him. Clarice was already unconsciously making a fist when someone put a hand on her elbow, startling her into forgetting her anger. She glanced sideways to see Sean regarding Dusty with interest.

"This guy bothering you?" he asked her.

He was smiling good-naturedly enough, and as charmed as Clarice was that he seemed to regard Dusty as if he were just another human, she thought there was something _off_ in his expression as he looked up with interest at the crop-duster turned firefighter, nearly being able to stare him straight in the eyes if he were about a head taller.

"Trying to steal you away from me?" laughed, and that was off too.

"What?" said Clarice, flustered. "No, he's just -"

"Good," said Sean, smiling again, "'Cause there's another Jack n' Coke back at the bar with your name on it."

He began steering Clarice back toward the bar with a hand on the small of her back. She glanced over her shoulder to see Dusty frowning as he watched them go. Then she was back at the bar with Aimee and Jim, and Sean was pressing yet another glass into her hand. She looked back for Dusty one more time, but he had vanished again. _What the hell just happened?_ Clarice frowned into her glass, and then drank it anyway.

After that everything started to blur together. Sean kept buying her drinks, and she kept drinking them, steadily losing track of time and hardly paying attention to what was said or what she herself did or said until she was startled out of her growing stupor by the nearby cry of, _"Whew!"_ Clarice turned where she sat and was alarmed to see a row of shot glasses in front of Aimee, and another in her hand. Before Clarice could stop her, she threw back the shot and slammed down the glass on the bar.

"One more?" Jim asked, grinning.

"Um..." said Clarice, frowning worriedly.

She felt that Aimee had probably already had too much. Blinking, struggling to focus on her face, Clarice was pretty sure _she'd_ had too much. When had that happened?

"Are you sure about that?" she asked Aimee hesitantly.

"I'm a gamer, I can handle it!" she exclaimed suddenly, banging her fist so hard on the bar that it made the shot glasses jump. "I have a separate stomach just for cake and ice cream and Margaritas!"

Then she dissolved into giggles and leaned heavily on Jim's shoulder, nearly tipping him over.

"Yeah, I think she's had enough boys," Clarice said, now convinced. She stood, catching her balance on Sean's shoulder – _Definitely too much_ – and tugged at Aimee's elbow. "I'm going to get her to bed before she passes out."

For a moment, Jim looked disappointed, but then he gave them a charming smile the next.

"Perhaps another night," he said, catching Aimee's hand as she stood and brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

It took every ounce of effort Clarice could summon up to keep from rolling her eyes. Aimee giggled even harder.

"Alright, come on," Clarice said, reclaiming Aimee's hand and drawing her away from the bar.

As she turned, Sean caught her free hand and kissed her knuckles as well.

"Perhaps another night," he echoed, smiling.

Clarice felt herself blushing furiously and quickly turned away. She led Aimee through the crowds, threading her way between tables and hearing the other girl still giggling behind her. Out of habit she scanned the crowds of humans and planes for any sign of orange, but she couldn't see Dusty anywhere. Clarice just wanted to get Aimee to bed as quickly as possible, so she reluctantly gave it up for the night. She was glad she had stopped drinking when she did. She managed to get both of them to their hotel room and let Aimee have the first chance at getting cleaned up for the night. Clarice collapsed onto the bed on her back and had only gotten as far as removing one shoe when she heard a small commotion in the bathroom.

"Oh, son of a basket-weaver!"

Concerned, as that was pretty harsh language coming from Aimee, Clarice knocked on the door.

"Aimee?" she asked, "Is everything alright in there?"

"Oh," came Aimee's voice in a sigh. She opened the door a moment later. "Yes," she said, looking despondent. "I just dropped my toothbrush in the toilet."

Clarice did her best not to crack a smile and just patted her on the shoulder.

"I'll go get another one," she told Aimee.

There were several extra toothbrushes in the truck because she was constantly forgetting to pack hers whenever she went on any trips like this. Clarice kicked herself for not bringing any of them up and sighed, putting her shoe back on.

She met few people on her way down to the lobby, though all of them seemed to be stumbling as much as she was, and then made it out to the parking lot without seeing anyone at all. As she dug around in the glove box for the toothbrushes, she could hear loud voices drifting across the parking lot. Clarice sighed, and shut the door of the truck and began her walk back to the hotel, but then she caught a few words of the conversation and froze as she recognized some of the voices.

"What are you two doing out here?" asked one, unfamiliar. "What happened to those girls you were drinking with? Looked like you were on your way to getting laid tonight."

"Nah," said another. "The taller one was a lightweight and the blonde girl was over-protective."

Clarice recognized the baritone of Jim's voice.

"Shit, that blows," said the first guy.

"No kidding," replied Jim. "I had her all liquored up and ready to go too."

Clarice scowled; she was pretty sure of the man's intentions, but to hear him speak so crassly about it made her glad she acted when she did. It wasn't as though Aimee needed looking after, she was older than herself for crying out loud, but Clarice _was_ over-protective. Aimee was in no fit state to make any smart decisions.

"And you still couldn't score with second place?" the stranger went on, and for a moment, Clarice was confused.

Apparently so was the man he addressed, because a third voice asked, "What do you mean?" It was Sean.

"Well the shorter one wasn't exactly the more fuckable of the pair."

There was some laughter, and Clarice's teeth ground together. It wasn't like she didn't already know that either, but still. Hearing it so bluntly put was hardly a pleasant experience. But then she was surprised by Sean's response.

"Are you kidding me?" he laughed. "Did you see the stems on that girl? Any dude who wouldn't want those wrapped around him has gotta be out of his goddamned mind."

Suddenly, Clarice felt flushed. An image flashed through her mind; her legs locked tightly around Sean's waist as she lay under him, gasping. Her face went hot. Actually she was hot all over. It had been a hell of a long time since she'd slept with a man, and Clarice found her heart racing at just the thought. Sean _had_ been very good-looking... The alcohol wasn't exactly helping her mind stay clear either. She swallowed hard, breathing shallowly as the men laughed. Then as she stepped off to return to the hotel, she promptly tripped. The talking ceased immediately and Clarice heard footsteps coming toward her.

"Who's there?" demanded the stranger's voice. "Oh, are you okay?"

All three men came around the other side of the truck as Clarice straightened back up.

"Hey," she said awkwardly, feeling her face go hot. She waved vaguely over her shoulder and held up the one toothbrush that she still had in her hand. "Yeah I'm fine. Sorry to eavesdrop, I was just getting something from the truck."

Both Jim and the man Clarice didn't know were smirking sideways at Sean, who was standing in open-mouthed surprise as he realized it was she that had overheard them.

"Well, we'll meet you later, alright?" Jim said finally, hooking a thumb over his shoulder as he began walking away.

"No rush," muttered the other man as he, too, took his leave.

Clarice found herself alone with Sean, standing in an increasingly awkward silence. Sean just rubbed at the back of his neck and gave Clarice a lop-sided smile.

"So... I guess you heard all that, huh?"

"Yeah," said Clarice, certain that her face was bright red in embarrassment.

"It's true though, you know?" said Sean abruptly, casually taking a step nearer, Clarice automatically taking a step backwards.

"Mm," she muttered non-committally.

Suddenly the situation felt wrong. He was advancing on her, albeit fairly slowly, but she was between him and the truck and she was going to run out of room to retreat in another few steps.

"You're a damn fine-looking woman, Clarice."

"Thanks," she said, and though she tried to keep her voice light it came out flat and she knew she couldn't quite hide a frown.

"Hey, it's okay," Sean told her, smiling. "Don't worry."

He reached out and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her tight against him and kissing her on the mouth. The toothbrush fell from her fingers and for a split-second, Clarice actually kissed him back, her alcohol-ridden brain thinking that this might not be such a bad idea after all. But then his hand was on her thigh, sliding up under her dress. Remembering herself, she grabbed his wrist and pushed a hand hard against his chest.

"Whoa, hold on," she said, breathless from the kiss and more than a little dizzy from all the drinks. "This isn't really what I'm interested in right now."

"Sure it is," Sean laughed again. "We were getting on well enough at the bar. And..." he raised his eyebrows knowingly, "...that kiss didn't exactly say "back off"."

He pulled Clarice in close again, kissed her open mouth when she made to protest, and then slipped his hand under the front of her dress to cover one of her breasts.

"Knock it off!" Clarice said more forcefully after shoving him away again. "I'm serious! This is me saying, "back off!"."

Her head was starting to ache now, and she glared at him.

"Oh, come on," Sean said, grinning broadly now as he made another grab for her. "You know you want this."

Clarice stepped back but be managed to seize her right wrist in one heavy hand. She gave a little squeak of pain and reacted instinctively. She spun in an instant, twisting her arm so sharply that Sean was forced to let go, and then she stepped forward just as quickly to slam the heel of her palm into his mouth, feeling his bottom lip split open against his teeth.

"I said no, you asshole," Clarice growled. "Touch me again and I'll-"

Her voice cut off as her quick actions earlier seemed to catch up with her just now and she swayed to one side slightly, suddenly intensely dizzy. She clutched her head in her hands for a moment and watched Sean holding a hand over his mouth. When he looked up, Clarice expected his handsome face to be twisted into anger, but she was much more unnerved to see him smiling.

"I knew you'd have scrap," he said appreciatively, licking the blood from his lips.

He advanced on her again and Clarice let one foot slide back on the rough pavement of the parking lot, settling into a fighting stance, ready to defend or attack.

"Back off," she warned again, though she had stumbled somewhat before getting her stance completely solid.

She was beginning to understand how much her drunkenness was actually affecting her. The alcohol was dulling her senses enough to put her off-balance, and her anxiety grew as she realized the odds weighing against her. She was still between Sean and the truck, and even though he was just as drunk as she was, he was over halfway to doubling her weight. Without her switchblade which was all the way up in the hotel room, Clarice's main strengths if she ever got into a fight were speed and skill, both of which were now hampered. She felt her mouth go suddenly dry and she swallowed, licking her lips apprehensively. It was as if Sean could see all of her reasoning in her head and had come to the same conclusion. He was wearing that hungry smile again and it made her skin crawl. Then she finally realized she could shout; call for help. For an instant, some part of her refused to do so; her pride, her ego. _Clarice Watson can't defend herself against one man?_ And she felt sick with herself for even thinking it.

"I'll scream," Clarice threatened.

"Who'd hear you?" said Sean, laughing. "Everybody's passed out by now."

For a long, tense moment they just stood sizing each other up. _Help!_

"HELP!" Clarice bellowed as loudly as her throat would allow.

Sean growled and rushed her, and instead of retreating Clarice side-stepped him, seizing one of his wrists and twisting his arm behind him before shoving him forward, adding to his momentum, to slam him face-first into the truck. She didn't have enough weight to keep him there without a more severe grip and Sean easily muscled out of her hold. He brought the back of his hand hard across Clarice's face as he turned and the force of it was enough to send her sprawling with a squawk of surprise at the stinging pain. She was barely back on her feet when she managed to block Sean's next blow, though it fell upon her so heavily it nearly forced her to her knees. When Sean drew back his fist for the next punch, Clarice snapped a kick up high, connecting solidly with the side of his head. He staggered back into the truck, swearing, and Clarice only just caught her balance with both feet on solid ground again. While Sean was recovering, she took the chance to run.

"Help!" she shouted again, though she was breathing heavily now and it didn't come out nearly as loudly as before. "Somebody- Ah!"

Sean had caught up with her somehow and had kicked her legs out from underneath her and she fell forward. She managed to catch herself but was barely up before Sean hauled her back by the collar of her dress so forcefully that both felt and heard the fabric ripping. The collar came completely off in Sean's hand and Clarice fell back, turning it into a roll over her shoulder that left her too dizzy to get back on her feet before Sean threw himself on top of her, trying to grab her wrists and pin her underneath him on the crunchy asphalt.

"Get _off_ me, you bastard!" hissed Clarice, breathless.

She started screaming, really screaming, at the top of her lungs. Sean winced at the sound of it, but it was taking up more oxygen than Clarice could spare from fighting and she had to choose one or the other. She chose fight.

Without any real thought to the consequences, Clarice smashed her head as hard as possible into Sean's face. It nearly blinded her with pain and she let out a groan, but Sean swore and pulled away reflexively. She used what little room she had gained and punched him in the throat, shoving him off her enough to get free as he half choked and put a hand at his throat. Clarice rolled onto her front and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, shouting for help again as she scrambled away. She was almost to her feet when Sean's hand snatched her ankle and pulled sharply backwards. Clarice fell flat on her stomach, the wind knocked from her, and Sean dragged her back and crawled up over her body until he had her pinned down again.

Her face was forced sideways into the ground, straining her neck. Clarice could just see Sean's face in her peripheral vision. His nose was dripping blood, and the smell of tar and spent motor oil was thick in her nose as she fought for breath. She struggled awkwardly in this position, reaching above and behind to dig her nails into any skin she could find. Sean swore once and Clarice was sure that she'd drawn more blood, but it didn't take him long to seize both of her wrists and twist her arms behind her back, holding them pinned painfully between their bodies. Clarice kept twisting the whole of her body underneath Sean's, trying desperately to dislodge him, but he finally forced one knee between hers and kept her still. His other knee joined the first and he was pushing her legs apart, shoving her dress up around her hips and digging his fingers under the elastic band of her thong. Clarice drew breath for one last futile scream, and then suddenly she wasn't the only one screaming.

Clarice took in a great, gasping breath as the crushing weight above her disappeared. She untangled her arms from behind her and rolled over as quickly as she could, sitting up and scrambling away backwards on her hands in time to see Dusty pulling Sean up roughly by the arm in his teeth and then throwing him over and slamming him into the ground. There, he pinned him to it by his nose cone.

"Get this thing offa me!" he screamed again in terror, his arm bleeding badly from where the sharper teeth in Dusty's jaws had punctured it.

Dusty stood over the human, staring down at him and snarling vengefully, wearing an expression that Clarice had never seen before on him and hoped to have never turned on herself. Fury was etched into every line of his face as he glared hatred and anger down onto his victim, and when he spoke his voice bled through his engine's growling in a terrifying tone that could almost be more felt than heard.

"Get out of here," ordered Dusty. "Now. If you _ever_..." he hissed with emphasis, "...touch another woman without her consent again, I will find you, and you'll find yourself down a limb or two."

Dusty ground into him on the pavement, making Sean squeal in fear and pain before letting him go. The human stood for a moment, looking warily from Clarice to Dusty, the furious plane snarling again and advancing somewhat as he raised his control surfaces, then he went scampering off. Then the orange and white plane turned his gaze to Clarice and she flinched automatically in anticipation of seeing those eyes. But the fury was gone, replaced by anxiety and honest concern in sky blue eyes gone softer as Dusty looked her over. He pulled a jacket out of the back of the truck and put it over her, enveloping her in warmth. Dusty took the collar of the jacket gently in his teeth and lifted her to her feet. He stood closely by her side, right wing at the small of her back, and then he began moving and pushing her away from the parking lot.

Clarice walked with him but didn't know where he might take her; she didn't really want to go back upstairs to face Aimee. The girl would only be upset and blame herself for sending Clarice down to get a toothbrush, but she had nowhere else to go and just let Dusty push her along. The ramifications of the situation- what had almost happened to her, her embarrassment and stupidity in her actions that lead up to it- was starting to weigh Clarice down with every step. Fear. Real fear, which hadn't had time to sink in in the chaos and adrenaline of the last few minutes, struck her badly now in a delayed reaction to the attack. What if Dusty hadn't come?

Her throat closed on tears, the girl struggled in vain to keep Dusty from seeing them. She hid her face in the collar of the jacket as Dusty walked her to wherever he was taking her. But soon Clarice was truly sobbing, tears squeezing out from the corners of her eyes to roll down the dirty skin of her cheeks. Her shoulders were shaking as she tried to remain silent, but the girl finally just stopped, ducking away under the plane's wing to bury her face in the scratchy fabric of the jacket's sleeve as it continued to pass over her. Clarice hated that he was seeing her so vulnerable. Physically outmatched by that man was understandable, but these tears were a weakness she never wanted Dusty to see. She quieted her sobbing through sheer force of will, hoping...

_What? That he'll leave? Pretend not to notice?_

Then she hiccuped in surprise; heat suddenly enveloped her as Dusty nuzzled her into the crook of his wing, embracing her, and Clarice burst into tears again, her face still buried in her hands. She felt him shift, and rest the side of his nose against her head. Clarice let herself wrap her arms around his nose, pressing her face against the warm metal as he purred soothingly. The human girl clung to him tightly, and cried.

And Dusty didn't shush her, or tell her it was alright. He just let her cry. Clarice basked in the warmth and smell of him and just felt so safe. Like nothing in the world could touch her. After a while he moved, still purring, just letting his relaxed lips rest against her cheek and the side of her head. Clarice almost melted, leaning further into him with a sigh as her breathing slowed and steadied again with the powerful vibrations from his engine.

"You wouldn't _really_ have hurt him," Clarice murmured suddenly; she wasn't sure why it was so important to say so.

"No," Dusty answered, and she felt his warm breath and smelt the fumes of it. "Sure gave him something to think about though."

Clarice gave a weak little laugh and drew back to look at the former crop-duster's face, lessening her hold around his nose, but not letting go entirely. He didn't seem to mind. He was smiling faintly, but the girl could tell it was barely covering a grimace as he looked her over again. She knew a few bruises must already be forming on her face, but she was glad that Dusty didn't ask if she was alright. They both already knew the answer. Finally she couldn't think of any more reasons to justify her hold on him and Clarice reluctantly let him go and stepped back. For a moment he moved with her, like he was just as equally reluctant to release her.

"I suppose it's time to get some sleep," said Clarice. "If I can," she added, quietly.

She still didn't really want to go back to the hotel though, but it was just as if Dusty had sensed her hesitation and reasoning for it and Clarice had found that he had been leading her to his tent in the pits, although tent was a bit of an understatement. It was nice and perfectly enclosed and warm in there. Dusty turned the lights on, adding to the cozy feel of it. Again, he was way ahead of her as he suggested that she get herself cleaned up and that the sink the corner of his tent was almost big enough for her to take a bath in.

She looked down at herself then for the first time they had left the parking lot and gasped. Her calves were covered in blood from Sean's injury and she hurried into the basin, desperate to wash away any and all traces of him from her. Dusty had politely turned around as she sat on the edge of it and didn't even wait for the water to warm up, just scrubbed at her skin until it was pink and raw and the last traces of red-stained water were circling the drain. Putting the jacket back on after she was dried, Clarice was thankful that Hugh had left it in there, for it was large and covered her up adequately enough when she had nothing else to wear. Dusty then gently nudged her over to his sleeping mat, where he lay down and nestled in with her tightly to his fuselage behind his left wing. Aircraft sleeping mats were huge, even the smallest ones, and immensely comfortable. Both the plane and it provided her with enough warmth and comfort for her mind to simply shut down for a bit, but not go to sleep. Every so often she would come out of it and look up to see Dusty still awake, watchful eyes staring resolutely into the darkness of the tent.

"Get some sleep Clarice," he said softly, still staring ahead, at the third time she had looked up.

"I'm trying."

"It's alright. You'll never see him again, I made sure of that," he assured her soothingly, gently nudging his frame closer to her, "I'm sorry I didn't get there earlier. And for being kind of a ghost today."

"It's alright Dusty. Thank you. What _were_ you up to anyway?"

"Well, you see, there was this girl..."

"Oh," said Clarice in realization, now feeling a tad guilty for how she'd snapped at him. "Anything special happen?" she asked trying to keep the hopeful curiosity out of her voice, knowing that he was shy about such things.

"Nah..." he said after a bit, "Turns out she wasn't my type after all."

Clarice's brow pinched in as she smiled at the wistfulness in his voice. He sighed, finally laying down fully, and she leaned up against him, patting his flank in understanding.


End file.
